


The Necklace

by eiluned



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Love, Necklace Fic, Post Avengers (2012), Pre - Captain America: Winter Soldier, Sex, Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:19:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiluned/pseuds/eiluned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She saw the necklace in a store display, and it reminded her of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Necklace

**Author's Note:**

> **Update:** [IT IS AN ARROW NECKLACE.](http://brbshittoavenge.tumblr.com/post/75559137896/guys-guys-look-it-is-an-arrow-necklace)
> 
> [It looks very much like Natasha is wearing an arrow necklace in set pics from Captain America: The Winter Soldier](http://media.tumblr.com/fb01db42ed8288c526ea933cb20e7403/tumblr_inline_mlvh36ZnQ51qz4rgp.png), and I (like every other clintasha writer) wanted to write fic about it. Here's hoping this fic isn't proved horribly wrong when the movie comes out, heh. Enormous thanks to the Hive, as always, for hand-holding and cheerleading and beta reading this thing. Feedback is always appreciated and will be given cookies.

* * *

Natasha knew all too well what S.H.I.E.L.D.'s psychological detox program was like. She had gone through it twice: once when she had first defected to the U.S. and a second time ten months later, when she had a relapse back into her Red Room brainwashing. She never wanted to go through it again.

And she was giving serious consideration to busting Clint out of it right then, to running away, changing their names, and never setting foot into a S.H.I.E.L.D. base again.

She knew he had shaken off Loki's control. She knew Clint, knew him better than anyone, particularly S.H.I.E.L.D.'s shrinks, and she knew he was back, he was 100% in control of his own mind.

But S.H.I.E.L.D. never left anything to chance, and as soon as Thor had made off to Asgard with his asshole brother in tow, S.H.I.E.L.D. took Clint and locked him up. No matter what Natasha said, shouted, or threatened, Fury refused to budge. "We have to make sure he's not a risk," he said, and though she could see the logic of it, could see the sympathy in his expression, she still hated him for forcing Clint to go through that hell.

She had nearly lost him to Loki, nearly had to kill him herself, and she hated every second of the two weeks it took for her to get him back.

But she got him back.

* * *

They fell together.

Two weeks of delayed relief made them desperate; they couldn't make it as far as her bedroom but collapsed onto the living room rug, bodies tangling in an effort to get closer. Her shirt ripped when he tried to pull it off, but she didn't care because he was here, he was with her, his mouth fused to hers, and she had been so stupid all of the years before that moment.

She broke the kiss to pull his t-shirt over his head, and they quickly stripped off the rest of their clothes, hands made clumsy by desire. He tangled his fingers in her hair, and she pulled him down on top of her, wrapping herself around him.

They couldn't take things slowly; they crashed into each other, and when that initial, frantic urge was sated, he held himself up on his elbows and stroked her hair back from her face. She needed to feel him under her fingertips, and he rubbed his cheek against her hand when she touched his face. His eyes slipped shut, and she read the crease between his brows, the tightening of his mouth, could see the pain still there.

"You okay?" she asked softly, her voice a little hoarse from crying out.

The corner of his mouth turned up in a self-deprecating smile, and he pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand, her lips, her cheek, the curve of her jaw. "Yeah," he said. "Remind me never to get brainwashed again, though."

He was deflecting, but she understood it. They weren't the type to talk about their feelings–so stupid for so many years–but he would open up about it when he felt ready.

His kisses trailed down her neck, and she felt a throb of renewed desire deep inside of her. She sighed and shifted in his arms, tilting her head back as he sucked gently at the skin of her throat. But he stopped and drew away suddenly, and she opened her eyes to find him looking at the necklace.

"Tash," he murmured, reaching out to touch the pendant that sat in the hollow of her throat. "What's this?"

She had bought it on a whim a week earlier. She was off missions for the time being, until the Avengers furor died down, and she had taken to walking around Manhattan, avoiding the areas that the Chitauri had destroyed. There was a little jewelry store tucked between a Starbucks and a sandwich shop on the Upper East Side. She didn't even really notice the store, lost in her own thoughts, but the necklace caught her attention, a tiny, white gold arrow on a short chain.

She thought of how she had nearly lost him, _had_ lost him for a while, and how much that had thrown her world out of balance. She remembered how the idea that she could lose him without having told him how she really felt had stuck in her throat, made her choke down a sob in the few moments she was alone on her way to find Banner.

She thought of how goddamn unfair it would have been if she had lost him forever when she was too much of a coward to tell him, actually _tell_ him, that she loved him.

When she tried the necklace on, the arrow sat perfectly at the base of her throat, and the sight of it there made her ache. She bought it on the spot and had worn it ever since.

The necklace was everything she should have said years ago but never did.

"I saw it, and it made me think of you," she said softly.

The smile he gave her was a little goofy, and it made her heart thump hard against her breastbone. She pulled him down into a kiss, but his fingers stayed on the little necklace, brushing from the arrow onto her skin and back, and the feel of it sent shivers over her skin.

They slid back together slowly, taking long moments to touch and feel, give pleasure and take it, relearn each other's bodies, and the long stretch of time between the last time they had made love like this dissolved into vapor.

When he rolled so that she was on top of him, she brought his hand up to her throat, pressing his fingers against the arrow until she could feel the near-prick of metal into her skin. They marked her skin together, and she knew that was what the necklace was, his mark on her.

She didn't belong to him. She belonged to no one but herself, but she chose to be with him. She didn't belong to him, but in a strange sort of way, she was his and he was hers.

Pushing himself up, he wrapped his arms around her, and she curled around his body, and even though the feeling scared her a little, she found that she never wanted to let him go. Nothing was permanent in her life, but this... but Clint was. He had her back like she had his; he kept her secrets and her trust. They could easily survive apart, but together they were stable. They were... good, good in a way that they couldn't be separately. They were balance and conscience, better people than they had been before. He steadied her, and she grounded him.

She felt the words slip from her tongue in between ragged breaths, her lips pressed against his ear as she bucked and shuddered in his lap, and without missing a beat he repeated them back to her, a low rumble that shook her to her core.

They clung together for a long, long while, and she breathed easy. The world hadn't fallen out from beneath her feet because she told him that she loved him. It was still their afterglow: two people breathing and touching, bodies relaxing into each other. It was both shockingly normal and excitingly new with those words still hanging in the air around them, words they had only spoken through touches and looks and years at each other's backs.

They breathed easy together.

* * *

"You're going after him, aren't you?"

Natasha nodded, and Clint gave her a little smile, the one that said he understood why she needed to go, the same smile she had given him when he'd gone to find his brother. "Taking Rogers, I assume?" he said, stuffing his sweatshirt back into his bag and zipping it up.

"It only seems fair," she replied, crossing her arms.

Leaving his bag on the bench, he wrapped his hands around her upper arms and tugged her in close. She leaned into his chest with a sigh, sliding her arms around his waist. She would be lying if she said she wasn't uneasy about confronting her former teacher and lover, and Clint would know that she was lying anyway, so she just held onto him for a long moment, letting his steady presence melt away some of the tension that had gathered in her shoulders.

"Don't do anything stupid," he murmured, and she drew back to find him smirking at her.

"I never do anything stupid, Barton," she replied, wrinkling her nose. "You know who you're talking to."

His smirk turned into a fond smile, and he reached up to adjust the pendant around her neck.  A flash of color caught her eye, though, at the edge of his shirtsleeve.  "What's this?" she asked, tugging his cuff up.

On the inside of his wrist, on a spot that would normally be hidden by his shooting glove or his tactical gear, was a tiny tattoo, two red triangles tip to tip: a stylized hourglass.

She had to swallow hard against the sudden lump in her throat as she ran her thumb over the mark. "I'm not exactly a jewelry kind of guy," Clint said, the corner of his mouth turned up in a nervous little quirk.

It took a long time for her to think of the right thing to say, the right way to express everything that was roiling in her head and her heart. In the end, she settled for, "You just had to one-up me, didn't you?"

Clint laughed and wrapped his arms around her when she tucked herself against his chest; her head rose and fell where it rested against his chest as he sighed. "I always one-up you, Romanoff," he retorted. "I can't help it. I'm just better than you."

"Keep dreaming, Barton."

"You need backup on this thing?" he asked, ruffling her hair with another sigh, his tone carefully neutral, telling her he knew she didn't need his help but letting her know that it was always there anyway.

She really did love him.

"I don't think so," she replied, "but keep your phone on anyway, just in case."

"I'll do what I can to keep S.H.I.E.L.D. off your ass."

"Thanks," she said, hugging him tightly and pressing her face into his shirt.

They stayed there for a long moment, just holding each other, but she knew that time was short. She and Rogers needed to find Barnes and find him fast; hunting down the Winter Soldier didn't leave much room for sentiment.

"Be safe," Clint said as she reluctantly disengaged from his embrace.

That little, understanding smile was back on his lips. She rose up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a lingering kiss. "I will," she said, and she knew he heard the words she left unspoken as clearly as she heard it from him.

She reached for his hand, ran her fingers over his tattoo again, and he touched the arrow at the base of her throat.


End file.
